"What?"
"Seriously! You gotta stop! You are killing me!"
"What in God's name are you talking about?"
"Don't you even think about getting cute with me!" she spits.
"Listen," I reply holding up my hand, "isn't Bar Church precisely what Jesus had in mind when he commanded the Disciples go out and ..."
"Just because you went to Seminary," she angrily interrupts, "doesn't mean you know shit!"
Not knowing what else to say, I say, "True."
Taking a long draw from a tall boy Pabst Blue Ribbon, she chases it with a shot of bourbon with one hand while using the other to cover a pasty white breast with her robe that has fallen off her shoulder.
The pregnant moment of silence that follows is broken by unholiest belch from bowels I've ever heard.
It lasts a good 17 seconds.
"Jesus Christ!" I say, gagging at the smell.
"Don't bring him up," she hisses.
"Okay," I say, holding up my hand. "Why are you here?"
Taking a long draw from her cigarette before pointing the lit end at my chest, she hisses, "You're killing me."
"You're an Angel," I laugh. "I can't kill you."
Another tall boy PBR appears out of nowhere and she drains it, takes two shots of bourbon and completely smokes another cigarette in one angry draw before sighing.
"You know," she thoughtfully explains, "when I became your Guardian Angel, Peter told me it would be tough. He said you'd be a challenge. He even felt sorry for me sometimes and when you almost broke me ... he graciously gave me Jimmy Cochran so I'd feel better about being a Guardian Angel ... but ... you! ... you never stop!"
"What did I do?"
"What haven't you done?"
"What does that mean?"
A joint magically appears out of nowhere and rolling it, she says, "Everything was fine cause Sarah and the girls occupy all your time ... we even give you Che ... how much love does someone need in his life? ... but you can't stand it! ... just when I'm about to receive accommodations for being the first Angel to survive YOU ... you decide to become minister of Bar Church!"
"I didn't want to do it," I say.
"SHUT UP!" my Guardian Angel snaps, downing another tall boy.
We both take a moment.
She downs three more shots and two more joints.
I kiss Sarah who's reading a book on the sofa and check on Che who's asleep in her crib.
Maddie, Laurel and Cass all clamor to ask me something, but over their shoulders I spy my Guardian Angel taping her wrist watch while looking at me, as if to say, "I could fucking kill you right now!"
"What?" I ask after giving each daughter wise council before sitting beside her on the front porch.
"Bar Church is getting too big," she snaps.
"What?"
"You've far exceeded the 'when two or three gather in his name' quota. It's making me look as if I'm no longer needed."
"Really?"
She wipes her eyes before taking the next toke.
"Okay," I say hugging her ... she smells really bad ... "I'll stop giving it so much attention."
"I appreciate it," she cries in my chest, staining my shirt with a brown, leafy substance.
"Great!" I say, "now I have to hide this in the laundry with Che's stuff so Sarah doesn't find it."
"I don't want to loose Guardian Angel status," she smiles. "The perks are to die for."
"That's funny," I laugh.
"Shut up," she snaps.
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